Overtures of Spring

Moments burst, then twirl and swirl

Unfurling hours through the air

Rapid exhale, wild enigma

Painting portraits, raw and rare

Though grim gale hurls snow-storm spasms

Its insistence cannot quench

Dormant daydreams in the garden

And the bud that tree limbs clench

Soon will stir a ruby rustle

And what seemed a hopeless thing

Spills into nature’s spacious parlor

In grand overtures of Spring

© Janet Martin

Sunday Whirl ;